


A Bee's Experience

by regentzilla



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-02
Updated: 2016-06-02
Packaged: 2018-07-11 19:04:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7066342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/regentzilla/pseuds/regentzilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One day a bee falls from the sky, and dies cradled in Zenyatta's hands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Bee's Experience

The sound of a tiny something hitting metal is so faint that no human's ears would have detected it, but it startles both Genji and Zenyatta out of their meditation. Zenyatta looks down at his hands and Genji's head swivels to look at the source of the sound in his master's lap.

There's a bee, lying fat and soft in the center of Zenyatta's cupped palms. It isn't moving. The sound of the wind around them, breathing gentle down from the mountains and dragging through the grass, suddenly seems much louder.

“Oh dear,” Zenyatta says, holding the bee up to eye level and twisting his hand and head slightly, observing it from different angles. Genji can see the pollen on its legs and the glint of sunlight through its wings from where he's sitting. He can't imagine what Zenyatta can see from up close.

“Is it dead?”

“I'm afraid so,” Zenyatta says, and his voice is filled with genuine sadness.

There is a moment of silence. Genji has never seen Zenyatta next to death before, although he knows Zenyatta has experienced more than his share of it. After a few more silent seconds Zenyatta nods, as if satisfied with the silent prayer he was reciting. With a tender touch he places the bee down on the dusty earth next to where he's hovering scant centimetres above the ground. Almost immediately a thin line of ants emerges from the grass, looking for something edible to carry away. They're making tracks for the bee.

“Death is strange,” Genji says. He's so entranced with the sight of the insects that he's a little surprised when Zenyatta responds.

“Strange,” he hums, as if testing the taste of the word. “How so?”

A barrage of emotion makes the words Genji is searching for difficult to find. If Zenyatta were open to it Genji could just send the emotions over in a neat little data package, brain to brain, but Zenyatta is adamant that they speak out loud even when it's just the two of them. It forces a great deal more care to be put into communication, he says.

“I've spent so much time thinking about it,” Genji finally manages, “but I found it strange before this body and I find it even stranger now. Is there even a difference?” It's still vague enough to frustrate him, but he's never been good at philosophizing on the spot.

“Perhaps death isn't the same for us as it is for humans, but it is still a reality. It comes slow and it comes with less fanfare, but still it comes. We will both go through many bodies before the time comes for our souls to depart as well. We have more time to find peace with it, but also to worry. It's hard to say which is better – a long and thoughtful life, or a short and intense one, like that of a bee. I doubt the comparison can even be made.”

Zenyatta, of course, knows how to voice even worries that aren't his own. Not only does he know Genji well, maybe more than Genji knows himself, he could philosophize circles around him.

“It's a jarring thought.”

“It can be. I take much comfort in the thought that my body can be of use once my mind moves on.”

“Of use?” Genji can't imagine what he means. Too accustomed to death meaning a funeral instead of a trip to the recycling depot.

“When the time comes,” Zenyatta says, “I think I should like my parts to become a breadmaker. Or perhaps a rice cooker or crock pot.”

“What.”

Zenyatta chuckles, a metallic note from his chest – it's the one noise Genji still isn't quite used to. “It would be nice to feed someone's family, don't you think? Although it's a bit selfish, I would like to be a comfort to someone at the end of the day, a silent but constant presence that makes life a little easier.”

"As if you aren't already," Genji wants to scoff, but he knows that's much too revealing, inappropriate for the relationship between master and student. Zenyatta was right about the courage and contemplation that went into speaking out loud. The sentence remains a thought.

“Well,” Genji says instead, “if you're going to be a breadmaker, I'd like to be a toaster.”

Zenyatta chuckles again. Genji is relieved that he seems to have taken it as a joke instead of the truth that it is.

The ants are still marching away.

“Are you restless?”

Genji is, now that the bee and the conversation have interrupted his meditation. He shifts against the ground, adjusts the lotus fold of his legs slightly. It's all habit – he doesn't even remember what small discomforts like sitting too long feel like anymore. “A little,” he responds.

“Don't push it aside,” Zenyatta says, hands settling back into position in his lap. He begins to bob up and down slightly, like he always does when meditating, as if floating on an invisible ocean. “Just let it drift away.”

“Do you think the bee landed on you on purpose?” Genji blurts out.

Genji imagines that he can see a smile in Zenyatta's anchored features, knowing full well it's just the light. “Perhaps. Purposeful or not, I'm grateful that it found its way here. Even the smallest souls deserve to know peace and comfort. If I was able to provide nothing more than a comfortable spot to land one last time, I'm glad.”

Genji takes his attention away from Zenyatta, and from the ants and their prize now disappearing into the grass, and turns off his visual processors. Even as he lets his thoughts drift back into meditative nothingness he can feel Zenyatta's presence not just next to him, but thick in the air, and warm in his cupped palms like the feather-light weight of a bee.


End file.
